


make me a hercules

by hallaburger



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canonical Trans Characters, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, Kink Negotiation, Krem’s Magic Fake Cock, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Control, Praise Kink, Threesome, Totally Legit Tevinter Sex Customs, Transmen, fluffing, light rope bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9885455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallaburger/pseuds/hallaburger
Summary: If he’s distracted while sitting among the mercenary band, it’s without question due to the fact that the Iron Bull is there as well, bare-chested, bare-armed, with a perpetual fire in his eye. Val has grown accustomed to the way a hearty laugh rolls up from Bull’s chest, like a soup cauldron boiling over.He realizes that it's those little things that Bull does so effortlessly, and without expectation, that matter the most to him. Oh, Maker. When did he fall in love with the Iron Bull?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this out as a pet project to bring more transgender positivity to fandom--and what better fandom than Dragon Age? I liked the idea of having two trans characters (Krem, our canonical, beautiful boy, and an Inquisitor) having sex-positive talk and interactions with each other. It's important for me, as a trans person, to have that in my real life, so why not in fic? 
> 
> Anyway, it grew big huge legs and now here we are. 
> 
> Major thanks to [Nat](http://crabsandlobsters.tumblr.com), [Hal](http://harrytheahlizard.tumblr.com), and [Hinty](http://another-hinterlands-bear.tumblr.com) for showering me in love and support <3

If there is one thing Val Trevelyan is good at, it's not showing his hand. He's made it this far, leading the Inquisition as though he were born to it, filling the role that fits him like a glove, and letting his actions speak for him. He's popular among highborn and low alike, and he can name just about anyone involved with the Inquisition on sight. He drinks with the soldiers, cleans and sharpens his weapons with the Chargers, and tends to the wounded alongside the surgeons.

And none of them are any the wiser as to who he truly is. The beauty of it is that it seems not to matter to anyone. _If only I could just get that through my thick head._

If he’s distracted while sitting among the mercenary band, it’s without question due to the fact that the Iron Bull is there as well, bare-chested, bare-armed, with a perpetual fire in his eye. Val has grown accustomed to the way a hearty laugh rolls up from Bull’s chest, like a soup cauldron boiling over. He’s grown accustomed to the way the sinews show in Bull’s arms and back when he swings that great hulking axe of his. It took the breath right out of his chest the first time he really noticed; for that split second, he'd been so distracted that he'd taken a sword to the thigh and had to be carted back to Haven, stupid on elfroot with his leg tightly bound so the healers would be able to save it.

Over the past few months, as he's gotten to know his Inner Circle, as he's worked with them to build an army, and then, to rebuild Skyhold, they have all taken up some portion of his heart. Blackwall has become like a second father to him, and Josephine has taken him under her wing as a budding diplomat. Cullen likes to trade books with him. Dorian...is Dorian. But none of them affect him quite so much as Bull. Something about the way the qunari speaks, without pretense or posturing. The way he checks in on Val after a fight, not overbearing or having any doubt in Val’s skill, but just to make sure he isn't hurt, or that if he is, it isn't serious… Val has come to realize that it's those little things that Bull does so effortlessly, and without expectation, that matter the most to him.

Oh, Maker. When did he fall in love with the Iron Bull?

“Boss, you seem a thousand miles away tonight,” Bull's voice tugs him back to the present, and Val realizes he's been staring into his cup. “Everything alright?”  
Val smiles and nods, taking a breath and shoving all the warring thoughts in his mind down into the imaginary trunk they all belong in. He takes a sip and smiles again, this time a little more convincing, a little more winsome. “Fine, just got a little lost thinking about how we could have handled that last fight better.”  
Krem laughs at that, rocking back in his seat. “You mean like by actually paying attention to what's going on, rather than having both eyes on the Chief the whole time?”  
“I mean, I know I'm hard to resist,” Bull teases, grinning that stupid, beautiful, crooked grin of his, “but you really shouldn't put yourself in danger on my account.”

Skinner, who is seated at the corner table behind Bull, peers around him with a barking laugh. “Aw, Bull, he's smitten! Look at that cute little blush!”

Val screws up his mouth, fighting back the now-deepening color in his cheeks. “I am nothing of the sort,” he says, as dignified as anything, taking another draw from his cup. “I have bigger things to worry about than romance.”

Bull reaches out to hook an arm around Val's waist, and before Val knows what's happening, Bull is hauling him into his lap. Val yelps as he's swept off his feet. “ _Bigger_ things? Than me?” Bull grins, mischievous, his words full of meaning. The Chargers laugh.

All the breath leaves Val’s chest as he gets Bull’s joke, and his face heats as he feels the firmness of Bull’s broad chest behind him. “I don’t think you’d find me quite the man you expect,” Val says, his voice growing small.

Bull’s arm is a thick restraint around his chest, tucking Val against the warmth of his body. “I think you’re plenty man for anyone,” he says, his voice a low rumble, a smile behind his words, and even with the awkward way Val is sprawled over Bull’s lap, he can just barely feel Bull’s cock beginning to nudge against him through all that fabric.

The blood roars in Val’s ears as he scrambles out of Bull’s grasp, straightening his tunic. “I have to go, I forgot I agreed to--meet--Cullen,” he stammers, backing up into the corner of the table as he stumbles for the door.

Bull starts to his feet, and he’s still smiling, but Val can see the concern in his eye. Before he can speak, Val is out the door, gulping in breaths of fresh mountain air. His feet carry him through the courtyard, up the stone steps to the battlements, as he ignores everyone he passes. He just needs to get as high up as possible. Maybe just fling himself off those battlements. He hurries past the guards standing between the crenellations and ducks through one gatehouse, then the next, until he reaches one of the little rooms that hasn’t been fully cleaned out yet. Sunlight streams through gaps in the boards of the ceiling. The fresh air stings Val’s chest as he gasps for breath and throws himself against the corner of the room, where two of the stone walls meet. He shoves a hand between his legs, pressing, willing his body to _just stop reacting_ , as he leans his forehead against dark grey stone. A sob wrenches itself from his chest unexpectedly. He _wants,_ so desperately, and if he could only stop himself from wanting, he could spare himself all this grief and pain. He has not wanted anyone like this, not once in his life, and the thought of being so vulnerable terrifies him. He’d rather face down a rage demon on his own than bare his soul for the man he loves. And at the very least, he knows that Bull deserves better. Deserves someone who would be willing to open up and share all of themselves with him.

When the pressure he’s applying with his fist to his groin finally becomes painful enough to break the arousal, he takes his hand away, placing his fingers against the grooves in the stone. He breathes through the sobs as they roll through him like a thunderstorm, building in strength for a moment until they finally subside, leaving him feeling washed clean. He’s sure his face is all blotchy, as his mother was always so kind to point out when he was younger-- _I know you’ve been crying, you have red patches all over your skin, you can’t hide it as well as you think_ \--so he finds a place on the floor to sit, leaning his back against the wall. He closes his eyes and breathes, listening to the flutter of the birds roosting in the exposed beams. He hates to think that they’ll have to be evicted from the home they’ve made, in order to restore the room. Maybe he can ask Cullen to make one exception.

Once his heart has slowed its rhythm, and his temperature returned to normal, he hauls himself up on wobbly knees. Maybe he can make it back to his quarters without running into anyone. Maybe. This place is like a damned maze--they’ve been here for five whole weeks, and he still doesn’t know his way around. Maybe it’s better just to go back the way he came and look straight ahead, pretend he’s on important business and no one should bother him. He heads out of the gatehouse, back across the battlements, and none of the guards try to talk to him. He’ll have to talk to Josephine about giving them a raise. He turns to go down the stairs, and in his hurry he runs headlong into a wall of a man, who drops a tray of food.

“Steady on,” Blackwall says, blinking wide grey eyes at him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Val mutters, the blush returning to his cheeks and neck as he scrambles to pick up as many of the fallen items as possible. Blackwall crouches at his side and puts a firm hand on his wrist.

“What’s the rush, boy?” Blackwall says, his voice low, asking a different question. The old battlehound has always been the quickest to read Val, to know him without having to read about him, or curate facts through informants. Blackwall just _understands_ , sees something in him, and the two of them have been close in their own way ever since they met. The way Blackwall speaks to him, this understanding they’ve cultivated--Val knows what Blackwall is asking, and he can’t help the tears that well up in his eyes.

A large hand comes to pat his shoulder as Val leans forward, crying quietly against Blackwall’s shoulder. “Alright, come on then,” Blackwall says after a moment. “Up you get. Let’s get you back to your quarters.” Without a second thought for the spilled food, Blackwall escorts him toward the main keep, and Val’s heart warms a little at the way he snarls at anyone who looks at them. Val even notices his hand stray to the hilt of his sword once or twice. Before Val’s mind has caught up with him, Blackwall deposits him in the oversized armchair in front of the fireplace.

“Now,” Blackwall says, “I’m going to go send someone in with some food. You don’t have to talk to them. You’re going to eat, rest a little, and then make a plan. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you’re going to make a plan to sort it out. Right?”

Val nods, his tears having subsided again. At the mention of food, his stomach growls, and he can’t bring himself to protest. “Yes,” he replies. “Thank you.”

Blackwall nods, and claps him on the shoulder. “There’s a good boy. You’ll let me know if you need help,” he insists, heading for the door. Val can’t think of a way to respond, and the door shuts, and Val is finally, blessedly, alone.

A short time later, there’s a knock at the door, and expecting food, Val shoots to his feet. When the door opens, the smell of roast meat and potatoes wafts in--and it’s Krem who’s holding the tray. Val’s throat closes even as his stomach aches for the meal.

“Before you say anything,” Krem says, holding up a hand in truce, “I offered to bring this up, because I wanted to talk. I thought you could use a sympathetic ear. You really got out of there in a hurry earlier, and we were all worried about you.” Val shuffles his feet, chewing on his lip. He can’t think of anything to say, can’t think of anything besides _I’m a fool, and I love Bull, and I’m not strong enough to talk to anyone about it_. Krem nods towards the second chair. “Mind if I sit?”

Val shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to eat, and take a nap, and forget this whole thing ever happened. But that isn’t productive. That won’t ever make him feel better, won’t make him any more comfortable around the Chargers. Krem sets the tray down on the table and uncovers it, then lowers himself into the spare armchair. The smell of the meat is stronger now, and Val throws himself in its direction, laying into the food like it’s the first thing he’s eaten all day. He’s nearly cleared the plate by the time he looks up, and glances over at Krem apologetically. Krem just laughs.

“Not offending me any,” he says. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. When you’re ready, come over here. There’s something I want to tell you.”

Val reluctantly crosses back to sit in his chair, his mind racing with possibilities of what Krem might want to talk about. Well. He _knows_ what Krem wants to talk about. He just doesn’t know if he’ll make it out in one piece. He looks over at Krem, and before he can stop himself, his lower lip is caught between his teeth again, nibbling at the old worry scar.

“I wasn’t born the right gender, either,” Krem says without preamble, “so believe me when I tell you, I understand far better than most. And before you ask, nobody told me. In fact, I’m surprised you couldn’t tell about me. Though maybe it’s not quite that surprising.”

Val gapes like a fish out of water. It isn’t that he’s taken aback by this knowledge--he supposes that if he thinks back on their interactions, he’d be able to parse it all out. He’s just a little amazed that Krem is so _open_ about it. No awkwardness, no fumbling through the words. Krem owns this aspect of himself, and Val is desperate to learn how to do that.

“I know you like the Chief,” Krem continues, when Val doesn’t offer any commentary. “Well...perhaps ‘like’ isn’t strong enough.”

Val’s face heats. “I wasn’t sure if--”

Krem laughs, but it isn’t mocking, and that’s a little reassuring. “If it was obvious? Dear Inquisitor, you are as transparent as glass. But I think it is important that you speak with Bull about it on your own. He needs to hear it from you.”

“I can’t,” Val blurts out.

Krem lifts an eyebrow. “And why not?” Val twists his lips into a knot and stares at the pattern on the rug. “If you’re thinking of saying it’s because he might not feel the same way, let me be the first to tell you that’s utter shit,” Krem adds.

“He wouldn’t love me if he knew,” Val replies, mournful.

Krem’s laugh is loud, surprised, and shakes him in his chair. “What a thing it is! Forgive me for laughing, but that is priceless. Let me tell you right now, Inquisitor, Bull wouldn’t give two shits if you were orange and wore your shoes backwards. If he likes you--which I have on good authority he does--your _parts_ are going to be the last thing he’s worried about.”

Val huffs out a breath. If Bull _is_ interested in him… “Well it doesn’t matter much anyway,” he replies, and it comes out as more of a pout than he intends. “I haven’t… I haven’t done… Not really, not with anyone that mattered, and not--”

“You haven’t had sex,” Krem supplies with the kind of ease that makes Val want to thrash him.

“I haven’t--” Val’s brain stutters through it, he can’t decide how to say it, and can’t figure out how to get the words past his lips. “I’ve _fooled around_ a little, but I haven’t--not really, not _fully_ had…”

“Sex.”

“Yes, that!” Val growls. “Fine. I haven’t had sex. Not really. There. I’ve said it.”

Krem doesn’t seem to be even trying to mask his amusement, which grates Val even more. “Alright. Do you want to?”

Val grinds his teeth together. “Yes, I want to.”

“With Bull, presumably.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Forgive me if I fail to see the issue here,” Krem says, shrugging. “You know him. He’s not the type to throw you into bed and fuck you without a second thought. Unless that’s what you’re into, and you’ve discussed it first.”

“No, I know--”

“Then what’s the problem?” Krem asks, and he seems genuine. He wants to know, and Val can tell he’s actually trying to help. It’s so hard, when his own brain gets in the way.

Val fidgets a bit. His fingers knit together, then untangle, only to twist up again. “I’m nervous. I want to have...sex, but… May I ask? How is it for you?”

Krem smiles, shrugs. “First time was a little odd, to be sure, but then my partner wasn’t absolutely clear on what I wanted. Didn’t quite respect what I was telling them. It wasn’t awful, but I can promise you, you won’t have the same experience. And now?” His grin broadens. “Well, I’m my own man now. I’ve got the cock to prove it.”  
Val’s mouth goes a little dry. The image of Krem, rigged up in a harness, prosthetic cock standing proud… He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “Can you--” he begins, but falters. How is he supposed to ask this? Is it rude? What if Krem doesn’t want--

“Can I?”

“That is, _would_ you, consider helping me?” Val finally asks. “I--maybe it sounds ridiculous, I don’t know, but I feel I would be more confident with Bull, when it happens, if I’ve already--”

Krem’s smile is wide and genuine, and fills his eyes. He nods, looking pleased and indulgent. “Alright. I’d be honored. But, there’s one condition.”  
Val’s heart skips a beat. “What is it?”

“You have to talk to Bull. Be honest with him. Tell him how you feel,” Krem says. “Give him the chance to surprise you.”

Val swallows a lungful of air. The thought isn’t an easy one, but if what Krem says is true, if it truly won’t matter to Bull, then perhaps he can find the courage to do it. Val nods. “Yes. Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll talk to him.”“This evening,” Krem says. “Arrange to meet with him in private this evening, and then come to my room in the tavern. I promise you now, we will take it slow, and I’ll take your lead as much as I can. But you talk to the Chief first.”

Damn Vints and damn their conditions. Val nods grudgingly. “Very well. Which one is your room?”

*

Bull is in one of the offices off the main hall when Val finds him, and where he expects to see cups surrounding him, instead there are papers, letters, strewn all over the table. Val clears his throat upon his approach, and when Bull looks up, the relief is apparent in his eye.

“Koslun’s balls, Boss, you really had me worried,” Bull says, leaning forward. “The way you took off like that? I know the guys can be a little heavy-handed in their teasing, but--”

“Bull, I--” Val takes a breath so deep it makes his chest ache. “I care about you. Very much. I hesitate to call it l-- _love_ , at least for now, but I truly think--”

Bull holds up a hand to pause him, but there’s a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Slow down, Boss. You’re always using too many words to say what you want to say, and frankly, it’s dizzying. Now. Try again.”

Val closes his eyes. He tries to focus for a moment on slowing the frantic pace of his heart. He swallows, and opens his eyes, reaching for Bull’s weathered and callused hand. “I love you, Bull. Perhaps it’s premature to call it that, but--I feel very strongly for you. And I am sorry it has taken me as long as it has to tell you. I’ve been, ah, working on making myself a better man.”

Bull smiles then, a knowing little grin. “Has Krem been grooming you, then?”

A little puff of laughter bursts from Val’s nose, and he nods. “He recommended I speak with you. You see, he and I are…”

“ _Aqun-athlok_ ,” Bull supplies, his smile growing. “I know. Born one gender, but living as another. It doesn’t make either of you any _lesser_. You’re men. You’re men who are special, yes, men who are built differently than other men. But that does not make either of you a shred less than anyone who was born with a cock.”

Val surely hasn’t blushed as much in his whole life as he has in the past day. And even as his cheeks redden, he knows that this is right. Bull is validating him, proving what Krem had predicted. “May I...may I do something a little untoward?” Val asks.

Bull chuckles. “I think we have different definitions of ‘untoward,’ but please, by all means.”

Val summons up as much courage as he can, and steps in closer to Bull. With Bull leaning forward the way he is, they’re at eye level with one another, which is refreshing. Val licks his lips, focusing on his destination, and closes the gap between them to press a soft, promising kiss to Bull’s lips. He can feel Bull shift, can tell that Bull is lifting his arms, presumably to touch, and Val pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Bull’s, shaking his head.

“Not yet. I want it, I want to. I just...there’s something I need to do first, and when it’s done, I will let you know. I want to be with you so badly, Bull, and Maker knows why, but I hope that this might be the start of something beautiful.”

Bull flexes his fingers, and Val knows he still wants to touch, wants to hold Val close, but he won’t. Not yet, not until Val consents. That means more than anything. “I will be here when you’re ready,” Bull says in his gentle, low voice, and Val knows that he’s done the right thing.

*

Despite Krem’s gentle insistence that no one would be around, and even if they were, no one would _care_ , Val still finds himself glancing around on his way to the Herald’s Rest. His heart is hammering away in his chest, and he has to remind himself to breathe when his head spins. He’s still reeling from his encounter with Bull, his belly roiling with want. Surely Krem didn’t know that would be the end result of that conversation--right? Once inside the tavern, he makes a point of looking at the floor, and heading as quickly as his feet will allow him without stumbling up the stairs. Krem had told him he would leave his door open, just a little, and that he’d be able to see Krem’s boots in the doorway. Val’s mind races as he reaches the top of the stairs--what if there’s more than one room with the door ajar? What if he doesn’t recognize Krem’s boots? What if--

“I can practically hear you thinking out there. Take a breath and come inside,” Krem’s voice calls, just one door ahead.

Val manages to fill his lungs, and ducks inside the room, careful to shut the door behind him. He’s dizzy, and before he can ask, Krem is there beside him, helping him into the chair beside the bed. Krem laughs a little once Val’s seated, and then vaults over the bed to fish around for his water bladder. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this,” Krem comments. He stands, and for a split second it looks as though he’s going to toss the water over to Val, but he thinks better of it and instead walks around the bed to unscrew the top and hand it over. Val drinks like he’s trying to drown himself.

“Look, if you’d rather not do this, I’m alright with that,” Krem says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I won’t force you. I just--know you said you wanted to try, and I thought it might be easier to try with me before heading straight for, you know, the big game.”

“I want to,” Val finally says, with a gasp like he’s come up from underwater. “Please. Krem, please. I need this. I can’t live my life hiding it anymore. And I can’t stop hiding until I’ve--”

Krem smiles a little, and huffs out a little sigh. “Well then I’ll give you a minute to relax. Take a few breaths. I’m in no rush.”

Val nods, closing his eyes. He focuses on his breathing, centers his mind. It’s easy, once he gives himself the task of it. He silently counts to eight as he inhales, ten as he exhales. He loses track of how many times he’s done this when his brain redirects, discovering the sensation of a gentle hand on his knee. Krem’s hand, he deduces. And Krem’s thumb is rubbing soft circles into the meat of his leg, just above his knee. All hope of staying on count is lost, then, as Val’s belly tightens and his exhale turns ragged.

“Shh,” Krem murmurs. “Just relax.”

Val swallows the lump in his throat and nods. With some effort, he manages to let some of the tension ease out of his shoulders, his legs, his neck. “Can you open your eyes?” Krem asks at one point, and he thinks about it for a moment before nodding, and blinking. Krem is smiling at him, his hand still gentle on Val’s knee. “So good. Well done, Val,” he praises him, and Val thinks he never wants to be without that.

“Can we--that is, do you think it would be alright if we...move to the bed?” Val stammers, his mouth suddenly dry.

Krem meets his gaze. “Are you ready to do that, or are you asking because you think it’s what I want?”

Val turns this over in his head for a moment. He never knew there’d be so much to _think_ about. Finally, looking at the bed, its soft if plain linens… “I’m ready. I want to.”

Krem nods and stands, removing his hand from Val’s knee. He climbs onto the bed, laying back with his head and shoulders propped against the pillows. He pats the space next to him. “Come on, then. Up you come.”

Val wastes no time in scrambling to his feet, crawling over the edge of the mattress and cosying up to Krem. He nestles himself right up against Krem, their shoulders slotting neatly against each other, and Val rests his head on Krem’s chest. Krem’s long, olive-colored fingers stroke through Val’s earth-dark hair, while Val’s hand comes to lay tentatively on Krem’s thigh. They’re both still fully clothed, but as the intimacy between them intensifies, Val feels almost as if they’ve both shed their very skin. There are fingers at Val’s jaw, then, and he tilts his head to look up. Krem’s gaze is soft, and searching. “May I kiss you, Inquisitor?” he asks, his voice low and full of meaning.

Val’s heart falters in its rhythm for a moment. “Just Val, please. None of this Inquisitor nonsense. Not here.”

Krem’s smile broadens. “Alright then. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

Val’s mouth knits into a cheeky little knot, even as his stomach swirls with nerves. “Ask me properly.”

That yanks a laugh out of Krem that’s loud enough to surprise them both. Val feels the way Krem’s chest and belly shake with the force of the sound. “No wonder the Chief calls you ‘Boss’!” he teases. “May I kiss you, _Val_?”

The blush in his cheeks is so hot he’s amazed they aren’t glowing. “Please?”

And then Krem shifts, moving over him even as he cradles Val’s head, their lips coming together softly and without desperation. This is gentle, and tender, a learning kiss. It’s not as though Val’s never _kissed_ anyone before, but--none of them have been like this. This is something they’re sharing, rather than taking. Val whimpers in the back of his throat, finding himself fully on his back as Krem holds himself above him. After a long moment, Krem pulls away, and Val chases his lips. Krem chuckles, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him back down against the pillows.

“Easy there, hot stuff,” Krem grins, sitting up. “We’ve got to lay a few ground rules first.” Val’s lip sticks out in a little pout and Krem has to laugh. “Standard protocol. It’s nothing bad, I promise. Just a few things to keep us both safe and happy. For example, this first time, I am going to ask you permission before almost everything I do. You’re welcome to say no, if you need a little break, or if you truly don’t want it. If at any time you need me to stop completely, you will use the watchword.”

“Watchword?” Val asks, feeling a little queasy. What would Krem be doing that would make him beg for Krem to stop?

“ _Katoh_ ,” Krem replies with a soft chuckle. “And don’t worry, we’re sticking to the basics for today, but I still want you to feel like you can have me stop if you need me to.”

Val nods. This shouldn’t be too bad. “Anything else?”

“Is there anywhere you absolutely don’t want me to touch you?” Krem asks, and Val marvels a little at how easy it is for him to say something like that without his cheeks getting red.

Val bites his lip, but answers, his eyes downcast. “My...chest. Don’t unbind my chest. Please.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” Krem agrees. “You have the right to change your mind on anything, but you’ll have to speak up about it if you do. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Understood,” Val replies, feeling a little more confident now that that’s out in the open.

“Now,” Krem purrs, swinging a leg over Val’s hips to straddle him before leaning back down until their lips are nearly touching, “if it’s alright with you, I’d like to kiss you again--”

Val surges up to capture Krem’s lips, but Krem is too quick and chuckles as he moves out of reach. “Here I thought you had a reputation for being patient! I wasn’t finished. I’d like to kiss you again, and while I do, I want to get the two of us naked.”

The words send a shiver down Val’s spine, and he squirms underneath Krem. “Please,” he begs, reaching for Krem’s waist. Krem relents, and with a soft laugh, he bends down once more, covering Val’s body with his own. This time, when they kiss, Val can’t seem to stop _moving_ \--his hips roll under Krem’s, his fingers skate over Krem’s arms and shoulders. Krem’s tongue slants against Val’s mouth, and Val responds in kind, deepening the kiss until the need for more spikes through him like Templar arrows. Val’s fingers find the hem of Krem’s shirt, and without further delay, Krem whisks it over his head, baring an expanse of toned muscle. His chest is bound, and Val absently takes note of his technique before Krem ducks down to kiss him again. This time, it's easier to part his lips, inviting Krem inside. He gasps as he feels Krem’s tongue against his, and a soft moan catches in his throat. The image Krem planted in his brain earlier in the day, the one of Krem and his _cock_ , comes back in full force, and Val grabs at Krem's waist.

“Please--” he begs, breaking the kiss.

Krem looks down at him, an authoritative light in his eye. “Please what, Val?”

Val whimpers, squirming. He doesn't want to have to say it, doesn't want to have to worry about words. “Please, just…”

Krem sits up, still straddling Val's waist. “Come on, then. If you want something, ask properly.”

Val growls a little, frustrated. He's not frustrated with Krem, though he does wish the man would just do something, wishes he didn't have to ask for something for once. This frustration is all directed right back at himself. “Krem, will you please just… _fuck_ me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

Krem smiles and bends down once more, sucking kisses into Val's neck, drawing more helpless moans out of him. “Don't worry, handsome, I'll get to that. I want you nice and wet first.”

Val's belly turns over as that thought tugs a dry, needy sob out of his chest. He's powerless as Krem's hands find the hem of his shirt, pushing underneath, skimming over the bandages that flatten his chest, tracing lines over his collarbones. “May I take this off you?” Krem asks, tugging on the fabric of his shirt. No sooner has Val nodded than Krem is sitting him up, pulling it over his head to toss it to the floor. Before Val can react to the idea of being half-naked, Krem begins pressing hot, wet kisses down over his belly. He can feel Krem's fingers at the waist of his trousers, and he nods before the question is even asked.

“May I take these off, too?”

And that draws a desperate, “Oh, _please,_ ” out of Val, and then, as Val looks on with a dry throat, Krem's nimble fingers untie the laces and set to working the trousers down over Val's hips. Something in Val's belly quivers, tightens, and he bites his lip in anticipation. He lets out another soft cry as Krem kisses his hip bones, then moves to his lower belly, below his navel. Val's eyes are watering, he's so desperate for it, for anything. His heart pounds in his chest, his fingers tighten in the bed linens, and he startles a little when he feels Krem's hands cover his.

“Relax for me, Val,” Krem murmurs, his fingertips stroking over Val's knuckles. “Breathe for me. I'm going to let you rest for just a few seconds, and then may I kiss your cunt?”

Another sob rolls through Val, and he had never thought he'd ever make this much _noise_. “Please,” he manages, fighting to open his eyes.

Krem nods and sits up again, stretching out his back and neck. Val focuses on his breathing, working to get himself back under control. The fact that Krem has given him a simple task helps--one small step at a time is all his overworked brain can handle at the moment. He's vaguely aware of Krem taking a drink of water and removing his own shirt, and then Krem is back over him, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek. “Are you ready?” he asks, and Val nods, taking a deep breath. Krem moves back down his body, hooks his arms under Val's thighs, and pulls his hips up just a little, enough that Krem will have an easier time and won't have to bend so awkwardly.

“Remember your watchword?”

“Katoh,” Val repeats, nodding.

Krem nods, satisfied, and after a few cursory kisses to Val's thighs, he dives in. His nose brushes Val's dick, making him yelp in surprise even as Krem's tongue laps against his cunt. The sensation is overwhelming, far more so than Val expects, and his hands shoot down to grab fistfuls of Krem’s hair. Krem makes an indignant sound that resonates against Val’s hole, making him writhe, and pulls away.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” Krem asks, raising an eyebrow. “Because if that’s what you’re gonna do, I’m going to have to tie you up.” Val’s breath catches, the thought sending a bolt of arousal up his spine. “And while I’m at it, do you know how much bloody noise you make? Not that I don’t love hearing it, but you’re into this whole discretion thing, and I should point out that it’s having the opposite effect.”

Val whimpers in the back of his throat. “I don't think I can stop,” he admits, his voice small as he looks up at Krem through his eyelashes. A knowing little grin quirks up the corner of Krem's mouth, and he leans over the side of the bed for a moment. When he straightens back up, there's a length of fabric in his hand, a handkerchief.

“Then you have two options, pretty little Inquisitor,” Krem says with a positively naughty smile. “You can be as loud as you like, and let everyone in the entire tavern know I'm taking you apart. Or I can put this in your mouth, and you won't have a choice but to be quiet.”

Val's mouth waters at the prospect of being gagged, and he isn't sure if he should be worried about that. He sincerely doubts that if he is ever captured, he won't have the same reaction. At least, he hopes. After gathering his thoughts, he licks his lips and nods. “Do it. Please. And… my hands.”

Krem grinds his hips down against Val's, making him groan. “Such a good boy,” Krem praises him as he gets up just long enough to snatch up a length of rope from somewhere under the bed. He returns and gathers Val's wrists, tying them together above his head. “I know you'd be eager to please. Always running around, doing every little thing people ask of you, being everyone's perfect leader. You just need someone to get you out of that curly head of yours, don't you?”

“Oh, please,” Val whines, wriggling beneath him, wanting more of that beautiful friction.

“Head up,” Krem says, handkerchief in hand. “Now, if you need me to stop, you shake your head like it's going to come off your shoulders. Understood?”

Val nods, lifting his head enough that Krem can place the gag between his teeth and tie it behind his head, careful not to catch any of his dark curls. Once Krem is satisfied with the knot, Val rests his head back against the pillows and takes a few shuddering breaths, closing his eyes and settling into this new experience.

“Is this alright?” Krem asks. Val nods, regulating his breathing. “Alright. I'll give you a minute to adjust while I prepare some things.” Val whines in the back of his throat, opening his eyes as Krem gets up to cross the room. “Don't worry, I'm not going far. Just relax, and breathe.”

Val does as he's told, closing his eyes and giving himself over to the brand new feelings that are racing through him. He balls his fingers into fists and tests the knots Krem has made--they don't tug too painfully on his skin, so unless he gets _really_ thrashy, he doesn't suspect there will be any lasting marks. The cloth in his mouth tastes clean, even if the fabric is scratchy against his tongue and lips. The minute wave of panic that had washed over him when the gag first went in his mouth is now gone, replaced by a grounding sort of calm. This feels right, feels like he can finally stop thinking about anything that isn’t the rope, or the gag, or the way his thighs are starting to feel slick. Before too long, Krem’s hand taps Val’s thigh, and it’s only then that Val realizes his eyes are closed again. He blinks, almost drowsy, and when he looks at Krem his throat goes dry and his belly swoops. Krem is fully undressed, save for the bindings on his chest. And there, standing proud between Krem’s legs, is a phallus, gently curved and skillfully crafted. The leather harness is supple, and Krem seems comfortable even as it keeps its purpose firmly in place.

“Whe-” Val tries to speak, but the words are muffled by the gag. Luckily, Krem seems to understand, and he pets Val’s thigh as he climbs back onto the bed.

“There’s a particularly skilled Vashoth craftsman that Bull introduced me to. He’s made quite a living off this sort of thing, too, as I understand, and has lots of various...products,” Krem explains. Val strains against his bonds, aching to touch it. He feels the muscles in his forearms pulling taut, but the knots hold fast. Krem reaches out to stroke his face, and Val turns into the touch like a cat savoring its owner’s affection. Krem bends down, his lips brushing Val’s cheek. The prosthetic nudges Val’s thigh, and his breath catches in his throat. “Are you ready for more yet?” Krem purrs. Val nods, his grey eyes wide and pleading. He adjusts his grip on the rope tying him to the bed, anchoring himself for what is to come.

Krem shifts, moving back between Val’s legs. For a moment, Val thinks he’s going to go straight for it, to just push inside and claim him, but instead, Krem ducks back down, folding himself in half in order to pull Val’s hips up and into his lap. Two long, calloused fingers stroke up Val’s slit and then carefully press inside of him, making him gasp through the gag. “That’s it, you’re so wet for me, Val,” Krem murmurs with pride. “Just how I want you, dripping and ready.” Val whines as Krem withdraws his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a lewd swirl of his tongue. If Val had the freedom to speak right now, he’d make some clever and teasing comment about Tevinters and their lasciviousness, but he has to settle for a desperate groan.

“Don’t worry,” Krem chuckles, “I haven’t forgotten about you. You’ll get what you need, you poor, sweet, desperate boy.” He twists at the waist to grab a little ceramic jar off the nightstand, which he uncorks. He tips the jar just enough to pour a little oil on his palm and fingers, and sets to slicking up the prosthetic while Val looks on in anticipation. Val’s mind races, imagining a hundred different outcomes. What if, by some cruel trick of fate, his body won’t accommodate this? What if the prosthetic cock doesn’t fit? What if, for no reason at all, this just kills him?

Krem laughs, and Val looks up to see him lazily stroking his cock. “You’re doing it again. I think it’s high time we got you out of that head of yours. What do you think?”

Val tries to maneuver his tongue, which is starting to feel quite dry due to the cotton fabric in his mouth. He nods, trying to take deep breaths and banish all negative thoughts from his mind. Krem reaches down with his dry hand and uses his fingers to comb Val’s unruly curls away from his forehead. Val can’t help but go a little boneless at the gentle touch, and he wonders if he could have someone stroke his hair and face all the time. Maybe Josephine could look into whether there’s a precedent for things like that. Krem bends down to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his cheek, just above where the cloth nudges into his skin, and Val sighs.

“That’s it. You get so wound up sometimes,” Krem remarks, his voice soothing. “Seems you just need a little help to let go.” Krem kisses him again, and this time when he pulls away, he gently takes Val’s thighs in his hands and coaxes them open. Val whimpers a little as he feels his cunt throb, and he’s too caught up in the sight of Krem arranging his legs to worry. Krem adjusts his position so they're both comfortable, and Val shivers and moans into the gag as he feels the tip of Krem's cock nudge against his entrance. Krem leans forward, wrapping his arms around Val, holding him close so that their chests are pressed tightly together.

“I've got you,” Krem murmurs. ‘Ready?”

Val nods, and he isn't sure why he's having trouble drawing a full breath, or controlling three racing heart in his chest that he's certain Krem can feel.

Krem tucks his arms up underneath Val's shoulders so he can cradle his head. “Look at me, Val, just watch me,” he murmurs, and once Val nods again, a long, helpless whine is pushed out of him as Krem slowly, painstakingly enters him. It must be taking every ounce of Krem's not-inconsiderable strength to control his hips, maintaining a gentle press, one inch at a time. Val has never felt so full in his life, has never felt anything like this. It's amazing, and in this moment, he thinks it's a sensation he'll never tire of.

He grits his teeth against the cotton in his mouth. His nostrils flare as he fights back another moan that's building up just below his ribs. Is Krem really not all the way in yet? How much of him _is_ there? The expression on Krem's face is intense and yet so caring, and Val has to force himself to keep his eyes open. He feels so exposed, so vulnerable like this, and it's the only time he's ever not fought tooth and nail to stop feeling that way. Finally, Krem stops, and he must be fully seated then, because his hips are flush against Val's.

“Breathe, Val,” Krem reminds him with a breathy chuckle. “You did it, you let me all the way inside you.”

Val smiles around the gag, huffing out a relieved little sob. “Feels good,” he mumbles through the fabric.

“It does, doesn't it?” Krem grins. “Do you need a moment, or shall I start to move?”

Val's belly clenches at the thought, and he nods. “Please, move.”

And then Krem is pulling out, almost as slowly as he pushed in, and the drag of his cock is enough to make Val keen and tug on the rope binding him to the bed. This time, when Krem slides back in, he’s acutely aware of the slight curve of the phallus, as the stiff head strokes up against a place inside of him that is deeply satisfying. The feeling makes him gasp, makes heat blossom through Val’s entire body, and he wants it again. He meets Krem’s eyes and nods and whimpers, pleading as best he can without words. “There, eh?” Krem asks, looking pleased with himself. Val would love nothing more than to kiss that self-satisfied grin off his face. Krem withdraws, and with a precise roll of his hips, his cock rubs that spot again, making Val cry out.

“Maker, the sounds you make,” Krem groans, grinding his hips into Val's again, just to draw another desperate moan out of him. “I almost hope there are some Chantry sisters around, just blushing their tits off to hear you.”

Krem untangles himself from Val just enough to get his arms free, then holds himself up as he picks up the pace. “Now, Bull is bigger than me, obviously, but he's gentle when he needs to be. You two are going to be so hot together. He's gonna take such good care of you,” he purrs. Val squirms, and his breathing hitches, and in a moment his eyes go wide.

“I'm--” he starts, but isn't sure how to say it, and then his back arches and he cries out, longer and louder than before. His muscles contract, and the tendons in his forearms go taut as he yanks on his bonds. After a long moment, his body feels slack against the bed, and he gasps for air. He wonders, beyond the dizzy part of his brain, if this is what it feels like to be possessed, but quickly abandons that idea. This feels incredible, and he doesn't want any negative associations with it. He's dimly aware, as he shudders through the aftershocks, of his cunt tightening on Krem's cock, squeezing it like a fist. Krem leans down to kiss him, and unties the gag behind his head. Val stretches his jaw a little, trying to coax moisture back into his mouth, while Krem strokes his arms, which Val only just realizes are now untied.

“Have you ever come before?” Krem asks, his voice and his breath soft against Val's cheekbone.

Val shivers, his eyelids heavy. “I--I'm not sure. Certainly not like that. That was…”

“I'll admit, you're a man of many surprises, Trevelyan,” Krem chuckles. “Not a lot of first timers can come so easily.”

“It's 'cause of your magic cock,” Val mumbles with a blissed-out grin.

Krem hoots and slowly pulls out of Val, which makes him whine again. “Cheeky boy,” Krem teases. “If you thought that was good, just wait til Bull has you speared on his lap.”

Val groans and turns his face into the pillow. “Maker, don't start on that now,” he mumbles, his face heating. “Let me recover from this for a second, please.”

Krem laughs and presses another kiss to his cheek before getting up. Val watches, but is too boneless to reach for him as he crosses the room and unfastens the harness. He carefully cleans the prosthetic before bundling it up and stowing it away in his pack under the bed. He soaks a cloth in water from the basin and wrings it out, giving himself a cursory cleaning and bringing it over to wipe Val down as well. The water is cool, and makes his hair stand on end. “Krem?” Val says quietly. “Thank you. I needed this, and I am grateful for your help.”

Krem smiles at him, poking him in the ribs. “Just wait. I am so excited for you to get under Bull. This’ll all have been a drop in the bucket after that.”

*

Val doesn't get the chance to “get under Bull” for another week. Josephine has invited a contingent of Orlesian dignitaries to survey the progress made on Skyhold, and Val spends the next several days playing host and being charming and diplomatic. So by the time they've gone, Val is itching to set up a date with the Iron Bull. They meet for drinks, secreted away in a corner of the tavern, and negotiate a time-- _nine, tomorrow_ \--and a place-- _my quarters are safer, Bull, the guards Cullen and Josie have put on my door are true to their word and won’t let anyone disturb me if I request privacy_. And then all is set.

Of course, moments after their conversation concludes, Val is off looking for Krem. Luckily, he doesn't have to go far; Krem is cleaning his weapons in his usual corner.

“Krem!” Val says, practically vibrating with nervous, excited energy. “Krem, it's happening! Tomorrow night!”

Krem grins and claps him on the shoulder. “That's it! I knew you could do it! Well done indeed.”

“You aren't--that is,” Val adds, fidgeting, “would you be there with me? I've already brought it up to Bull and he thinks it's a fine idea, and you don't have to participate if you don't want to, but even just having you there, I think, would make me--”

Krem smiles and nods. “Slow down. Yes, I will join you. And I'm honored you asked. And if this helps you get more comfortable, then I'm willing to be there for you. You deserve to be happy, and to get to a place where you can go out on your own, if you want to.”

Val could hug him, and he wants to, but he refrains for the sake of the other patrons in the tavern. Instead, he smiles and touches Krem's arm, and he knows Krem understands.

The next morning, Krem catches Val by surprise as he’s heading to the training fields from the keep. Krem catches Val’s elbow as he walks, nearly swinging him bodily around with the shift in momentum. “Val, can you spare some time this evening? Before we--before our meeting?” Krem asks.

Val eyes him with curiosity. He’s not entirely sure where Krem is going with this, but so far, he’s been in good hands. Why doubt him now? “I think I can. How much time?”

Krem shrugs. “Maybe an hour? An hour should be plenty. And do you mind if we use your quarters? It’ll save you having to walk back and possibly run into people.”

As if Val’s eyebrow couldn’t raise any higher. “Why on earth would that be an issue?”

“Well, you'll forgive me for being just a little presumptuous,” Krem says, sounding not the least bit contrite, “but I spoke with Dorian last night about your situation, and he's offered me a suggestion I think you'd really benefit from. There's a Tevinter rite of passage, of sorts, for young men about to, ah… lose their virginity.”

Val feels heat radiate down below his collar and up into his ears. “Really?”

Krem nods in earnest. “I'm sure Dorian knows it a little differently than I do--different upbringings and all that, but… it's really empowering. I think it would be good for you.”

Val mulls it over for a moment. What’s the harm in it? Krem seems to think it’ll help, and Dorian is a man of discerning character, and Val trusts Dorian to be discrete. “Alright. Come to my quarters just before eight. That should be ample time, right?”

“More than enough. Provided, of course, that Dorian doesn’t get too carried away,” Krem replies.

The day drags on from then. Val goes through his workout with the soldiers, channeling as much of his nervous energy into sparring as he can while still maintaining his focus. After a couple of hours in the yard, he heads back up to his room to wash the grime off his skin and change into something a little more presentable than the plain beige ensemble he wears when he expects to get dirty or roughed up. He fits in a meeting with Cullen to discuss how many new recruits they have, and from where, and if any of them have any talents or knowledge the Inquisition can benefit from. Val enjoys his meetings with Cullen, the Commander’s earnestness always managing to rub off on him and leave him feeling optimistic. After Cullen, he’s off to see Josephine, who immediately knows something is up.

“You are looking pleased with yourself today,” she comments, her cute little mouth pursing in a teasing smile. “To what can we attribute this glow you have?”

Val beams, shaking his head. He can’t contain himself, and he feels silly even trying. And yet, for all he knows that Josie wouldn’t actually pass judgment on him, he can’t come right out and tell her. “Am I not allowed to be happy?” he says instead.

She eyes him suspiciously, her grin not fading in the slightest. “Of course you are allowed. I am only curious as to why. You seem much happier than usual.”

“We’ll call it...I’ve had a realization that’s cleared my mind,” Val suggests. “And I’ve got a long-awaited appointment later on today. And that’s all I shall say on the matter.”

Josephine clucks her tongue at him, shaking her head. “You are trouble, my Lord Inquisitor, and let it never be said otherwise.”

If she suspects anything, she has the decency to keep it to herself, and Val could just hug her for it. He supposes he’ll have to talk to her about that at some point, clarify that they are, indeed, friends, and not only in the sociopolitical sense.

They spend a good long while going over the opinions of the Orlesian contingent, assessing which of the delegates can be later relied on for intelligence, or funds, or soldiers. When Val finally looks up, the sun is just beginning to set, and his stomach flips in anticipation. He wraps up with Josephine as quickly as he can, and all but runs to his quarters. Where he waits. He supposes he has maybe an hour or so before Krem and Dorian arrive, and just sitting here will just about kill him. He goes to his wardrobe and organizes it. He cleans up his desk. He makes the bed.

He hates killing time.

True to his word, Krem knocks on Val’s door just a few minutes before eight. The sound startles him enough that he drops the book he hadn't really been reading. He stands and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the torrent of nerves that gather in his chest, and answers the door. Krem looks devilish, and Dorian stands beside him, a satchel slung over his shoulder, the contents of which Val doesn't even want to guess at.

“There he is!” Dorian grins, sidling by Krem to enter Val's room. “Our littlest Marcher is becoming a man! I feel it is incumbent upon me to congratulate you on this landmark of your young life.”

Val can't even protest. His face heats a little, and he gives Dorian a soft little laugh and a shake of his head. “I'm not _that_ much younger than you, am I?”

Dorian takes him by the shoulders and guides him over to the desk, where he promptly deposits Val in the chair before setting about removing supplies from his bag. “Perhaps not, but you are a full head shorter, and therefore, I feel a familial duty to you. Consider me an older brother, perhaps.”

Val raises his eyebrows and gives Krem a look. “Quite a strange family we'd make,” he remarks, making Krem snicker.

“Never you mind,” Dorian scowls, catching Val’s chin in his hand. He tilts Val’s head this way and that, an artist surveying his canvas before beginning his work. As he’s jostled around, Val catches sight of some of the things Dorian has laid out on the desk, and his stomach flutters a little.

“Dorian, are you sure about this?” he asks, suddenly feeling very apprehensive, for reasons he can’t quite name.

Dorian’s mouth quirks up in a devilish little smile. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m a professional.”

Val squirms in his seat, trying to voice what he’s feeling. “No, I know, I don’t mean to suggest that you aren’t. I just--I’m concerned--I don’t want to look--” His heart races, his tongue stumbling over the words as he feels heat flood his face.

“I think I understand,” Krem interjects, and Val could just kiss him. “You don’t want to look feminine. I understand. Would it help if Dorian did my paint first?”

Val is so touched he’s speechless for a moment. He blinks owlishly. “Is that--in the ritual, are you supposed to have paint too?”

Dorian shrugs. “It’s not standard, but then neither is having a moral support partner,” he says with a little grin. “But traditions can be tailored as needed. If you’ll be so kind, let dear Cremisius have your seat?”

Val gets up and goes to sit on the trunk at the end of his bed, watching as Krem sits and Dorian picks up his first tool, which looks almost like a stick of charcoal, if a little more solid. He’s mesmerized as Dorian traces the kohl around Krem’s eyes, which is something he’s watched Dorian do to himself before, but is somehow different this way. Once Dorian is satisfied, he puts the kohl down and picks up a little pot that fits neatly in his palm. Setting the lid down he twists his mouth at Krem. “Could you take your shirt off, please? Better to do it now than when I’ve done your face, and risk smudging it.”

Krem obliges, and Val’s breath catches a little at the sight of the bandages binding his chest. He’s seen Krem shirtless before, but somehow it’s different this time.

Somehow, in being less intimate, it’s _more_ intimate. He blinks, and then Dorian is dipping his fingers into the pot, and when they come up, they’re coated in what looks like liquid gold. The paint is metallic, shimmering, and the sight of it against Krem’s skin as Dorian begins smearing it over his forehead makes Val’s heart race. He watches as Dorian paints Krem’s whole forehead from his hairline to his eyebrows and out to his temples. Dorian then makes one swipe on each cheek, just below Krem’s cheekbones, to accent their sharp lines. Satisfied with Krem’s face, he then dips all four fingers into the pot, then spreads paint across his collarbone, from one shoulder to the other, in four long lines. He allows the paint to dry for a moment, then takes a soft-bristled brush lightly dusted with powder and blots it along the markings to set them. Val is pleasantly surprised as he realizes that Krem looks perhaps even more masculine for the markings, and as Krem stands, he nods.

“Alright. Yes,” Val says, rising to his feet. “Please, I’d like to do it.”

Dorian smiles, and it isn’t cheeky or clever, but for once, only sincere. “Excellent choice. Just wait, little Marcher. You’re going to look ethereal.”

The kohl going around his eyes makes him flinch with every movement of Dorian’s hand, so much so that Krem has to put his hands on Val’s shoulders to help keep him still. “Will you just-- _relax,_ ” Dorian growls, muscling Val’s head back into place and holding his eyelid still with his thumb.

“I can’t! It feels like you’re going to poke my eye out!”

Dorian scowls, drawing the line as quickly as he can. “The only way I’ll be doing anything of the kind is if you keep moving, so, if you _stop moving_ , I can promise you, your eyes will be safe!”

After several minutes of struggling, Dorian is middling satisfied with the results of his efforts on that front, and ends up smudging the lines a little with his finger so that parts of them don’t appear so jagged. “There. _Kaffas,_ you are an absolute baby. At least with the paint I’m not going near your eyes,” Dorian scoffs, picking up the pot.

The paint is cool and smooth as Dorian spreads it over Val’s fair skin, and Val closes his eyes as he studies the sensation. He’s removed his shirt so that Dorian has full access to his canvas, tracing gold over the hollows of his throat and collarbones, careful not to get any on Val’s chest bindings. Dorian speaks in low Tevene as he works, and the few words Val catches suggest that he’s reciting some kind of coming-of-age prayer, a benediction for a boy about to become a man. Val knows that the situation isn’t quite the same, but the sentiment makes him choke up a little anyway. He can’t cry, he masters this little wave of emotion, for fear that if he does cry, he’ll smudge Dorian’s handiwork. Dorian trades the gold paint for a container with a fine powder that’s the deepest, richest indigo colour Val has ever seen, and Dorian touches his fingertips into it. He makes three lines from the bottom of Val’s lower lip to the bottom curve of his chin, and then draws one line horizontally across each of his cheeks, below where he’s put the gold paint.

“There,” Dorian says finally, stepping back to admire his opus. Val may be reading into things a little too closely, but he thinks Dorian almost sounds emotional. “Look at you. I’m so proud.”

“Alright, alright,” Krem says, standing. “Best get you out of here before the Chief arrives. Don’t want any close calls.”

Dorian nods and packs up his supplies with measured care. “I just wish there was time to do something about that _hair,_ ” he laments, reaching out to pick at Val’s curls.

“What I could do with a little ivy--”

“Dorian!” Krem insists, shoving him towards the stairs.

“Alright, I’m going!” Dorian huffs, marching down to the entryway.

Val leans over the banister as he goes. “Thank you!” he calls, to which Dorian waves a hand before disappearing beyond the archway. “I’ll have to repay him properly at some point,” Val muses out loud.

They don’t have to wait much longer before there’s another knock at the door. This time, Val’s heart leaps in his chest, so much so that for a brief moment he fears he’s going to be sick on the floor. Krem’s hand on his arm is a steadying weight, and he manages to take a few deep breaths. “Come on up,” he calls from where he and Krem have stationed themselves on the edge of the bed, and then there are heavy footsteps up the stairs. Bull’s horns appear over the banister, as if there were any doubt who it was, and as the rest of him comes into view, Val notices that he has a pack slung over his shoulder.

“Moving in?” Val asks, leaning back on the bed with a cheeky smile.

Bull lets out a rumbling chuckle and sets the pack on the floor. “Not unless you’re offering. I wouldn’t presume.”

“The Chief has a fondness for variety,” Krem says, which doesn’t quite sate Val’s curiosity, but he figures he’ll find out soon enough.

Bull straightens up and looks at them, his fists on his hips. For a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something, but stops himself. Val realizes then that he and Krem must look like eager kids at a slumber party--he, sitting on the bed with his knees gathered to his chest, and Krem knocking his feet together, stretched out in front of him. “You two are especially handsome tonight,” Bull finally says, grinning.

“Don’t you think so?” Krem replies. “Val looks good enough to eat, doesn’t he?”

Another chuckle from Bull, this time a little darker, a little more fiesty. He approaches the bed, towering over Val, and looks down at him with a hungry glint in his eye.

“He sure does.” He leans forward, placing his palms on the mattress, bracketing Val in until he has to lean almost all the way back. Val’s heart stammers, and he’s having trouble catching a full breath. Bull’s lips are inches away from his own and he desperately wants to close the gap and kiss him, but something holds him back. There’s an invisible thread between them, an unspoken command--he’s waiting for _something,_ even if he doesn’t know what.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” the Iron Bull says, his voice low, an ember in the pit of Val’s stomach. Val nods dumbly, believing it with all his heart. He knows Bull wouldn’t hurt him. He knows he’s safe. “If you need me to stop, you just say Katoh,” Bull continues, and Val nods again, making a weak little sound in his throat. If he had more control, he might make a snarky comment about how he’s got that covered, about how Bull could pound him into the earth and he still wouldn’t say it, but right now, it feels like he’s got wool where his brain’s supposed to be. He licks his lips, squirming backwards a little so that he’s further back on the bed. Bull stalks after him, predatory, climbing onto the bed and matching Val’s every move so that the distance between them doesn’t change. Finally, Bull leans in to kiss him, and the dam inside Val’s chest breaks. He whines, body thrumming with desire from the nape of his neck all the way down to his toes. One of Bull’s enormous hands comes up to cradle Val’s cheek, and he leans into the touch, feeling every one of Bull’s calluses, rough and warm against his skin. Bull’s tongue strokes into his mouth, tugging a moan out of his chest. He matches Bull’s hunger with desperation, mimicking the way Bull’s tongue slides against his, learning the way the Iron Bull likes to kiss and be kissed.

When they break apart, Val is flushed and breathless, and Bull pats his knee. “Krem, why don’t you come up here and sit yourself behind our little Inquisitor?” he says without turning. It’s only then that Val remembers that Krem is there with them, and when Krem moves into his line of vision, Val notices that he’s a little flushed and dark-eyed himself. Krem lifts Val by the shoulders, settling himself back against the pillows before pulling Val back into his lap. As Val leans back, Krem cards his fingers through Val’s hair, helping him relax.

“So,” Bull says, straightening up as Val relaxes against Krem, “Krem de la creme mentioned that you two got up to some mischief the other night. That true?”

Val’s belly turns over, and he swallows hard, watching Bull go over to his pack. “Yes,” he replies, his voice small. “I wanted to be prepared for you. I wanted to feel safe in my own body, to know that I was...appealing.”

Bull laughs that low, hot laugh of his. “Oh, you’re plenty appealing, kadan. Don’t you remember sitting in my lap that night at the Herald’s Rest? You can’t have missed how _appealing_ I found you then, and I can assure you, you’re no less appealing now.”

Val’s face heats and as Bull bends to look for something in his pack, the memory of that night comes rushing back to him. He’d only been in Bull’s lap for a moment, but that moment was long enough to notice Bull’s hard-on, pressed against his ass. Val’s skin tingles, and his mouth goes dry imagining it, anticipating finally getting to see it. Krem is still absently stroking his hair, his fingers sometimes slipping down his neck and over his shoulders, and it’s serving to make Val’s blood sing with desire, without turning him on too much. He doesn’t want this to be over too quickly, and he doesn’t expect either Krem or Bull to let that happen. When Bull approaches the bed again, he tosses whatever’s in his hands onto the corner of the bed before Val can get a good look, and then he’s climbing back up over Val, his knees and arms framing him. With Krem situated behind him, Val has no retreat.

“Oh, I am gonna take my time with you,” Bull grins, his eye roaming over Val’s body. Even with his trousers still on, Val has never felt more exposed. Bull leans in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Val’s neck, and he worries the skin between his teeth until Val yelps out a helpless little cry. All the while as he’s sucking a bruise into Val’s neck, Bull’s fingers are tracing down his side, coming to rest on his belly. “Mmm,” Bull purrs, licking the spot he’s just kissed, “I’m not always into marking up my partners, but you… I’m definitely gonna make an exception. Your skin is gonna take it beautifully. And I can’t wait to see you totally debauched, with my spend leaking out of you.”

“Oh, _Maker,_ ” Val whines, squirming against him. The image alone makes his belly clench and his head spin. “ _Please._ ”

Bull pats Val’s thigh and sits back on his haunches. “Don’t worry, kadan, you’ll get it. First, we’ve got to get you out of these trousers.” His hands undo the laces with a deftness Val hadn’t quite expected, and Val lifts his hips for Bull to peel them down and cast them aside. Then, before Val can blink, Bull’s hand is cupping him over his smalls, and Val arches into the touch, that big hand warm and possessive. “Do you always get this wet so quickly?” Bull chuckles. “Handsome boy...can’t wait to have me inside you, can you?”

Val whimpers, helpless and wanting. “Please, Bull, _please_ , I need _something_.”

“Okay,” Bull nods, his forefinger hooking in the front of Val’s smallclothes, tugging them down. He works them over Val’s hips, and Val uses his toes to flick them the rest of the way off. He shivers a little, the air in the room wafting against his soaked cunt, and it only serves to make him throb more. He leans into Krem’s hand, which rests against his temple, as Bull adjusts his position and lowers his head.

Val knows what’s coming, and the knowledge does nothing to steel him for it. Bull drags his nose against the sensitive flesh of Val’s folds, and it takes all of Val’s strength not to kick or squirm away. “You smell incredible,” Bull growls, nuzzling him again. “You ready for me?” Val can only nod, his lower lip quivering, and then Bull’s tongue is on him, stroking and teasing with the expertise of someone who has long years of practice under his belt. His breath is hot against Val’s skin, his tongue hotter, and while Krem had been good, this is even better. It’s as though Bull knows his body better than anyone else, knows every little combination, every pattern to make him quiver and leak more slick onto Bull’s chin. Bull licks into him, thrusting his tongue into Val’s cunt, which makes him shout, and Krem bends to kiss his forehead.

“Easy, love,” Krem murmurs, stroking his curls. “We’ve got you. You can be as loud as you like here.”

Val thinks he might go mad with the pleasure that’s rocketing through him right now. Bull is relentless, lapping at him and then-- _sucking_ on him, teasing that sensitive bundle of nerves until he feels he’ll burst. All at once, the muscles in his stomach contract, his thighs lock up, he feels that sensation building, he’s so close--

Bull pulls away, leaving Val twitching and gasping beneath him, on the precipice of orgasm and unable to tip over the edge. “No, not yet,” Bull says in that deep, commanding voice. “Not until I say. I want you begging me for it.”

Val groans, his shivers subsiding. “The two of you!” he pouts, frowning at Bull and gesturing up at Krem. “Did you teach him that?”

Bull only laughs. “I have taught our Cremisius a great many things. Though how many have actually stuck is another story.”

Krem tosses one of the little throw pillows at him, which he easily dodges. “Yeah well, I’ve got my own tricks. Many of which have already worked.”

“So smart, eh?” Bull grunts. “If you know so much, why don't you get over here and show us a thing or two?”

Krem carefully slides out from under Val, and he takes his time slinking across the bed. Bull, however, doesn't seem to have the patience, and Val bites his lip as Bull reaches out to snatch up a handful of Krem's hair, pulling him closer. “We don't have all night,” Bull growls. Val is fairly certain he's putting on a show, trying to fill a dominant role and create the dynamic between them, but the sound of Bull’s voice like that, low and predatory, makes him want to hide, as though he's a boy about to be punished. And why is that _so hot?_

Val's pupils are blown as he sits up and watches Bull tug Krem closer, steering his head until his nose is pressed against the long, firm line of Bull’s cock. “Take it out,” Bull says, his breath ragged. Now, Krem wastes no time unlacing Bull’s trousers, reaching inside to reveal his--frankly enormous--cock. Val is suddenly concerned about the likelihood of heart palpitations killing him at a premature age.

As soon as it's out, Krem strokes the length of it with his tongue, from the base to the gently-tapered tip. He traces the tip over his lips, nuzzles the dark crop of hair dusting Bull's balls, drags his fingertips along the underside. Bull gives his hair another yank. “Come on, then. Don't be coy. Show Val what you can do.”

Krem opens his eyes, looking up through his lashes at Bull, and before Val can think to pay attention to his technique, he's swallowing Bull's cock down, taking him almost all the way in. Val gapes at him, at the way he doesn't even cough, at the way his eyes shine as they begin to water, but he still doesn't choke. Bull groans and grinds his hips, and only then does Krem pull back, coughing a little to clear his throat. “That’s it,” Bull praises him, petting his hair. “Such a talented mouth you’ve got. Someday, Val, you’ll be able to do that, too, take me all the way down your throat.”

Val’s face heats and he squirms. He wants it, he wants to be good for Bull, to make him feel good. “Teach me,” he breathes, leaning heavily against Bull’s side, watching as Krem sinks down again. “Please, teach me, I want to know how--”

Bull turns his head to take Val’s lips in a wet, possessive kiss. “I will. We will. Not today,” he replies. When Val pouts, opens his mouth to protest, Bull gives a minute shake of his head. “You don’t need to learn everything today. We have time, kadan. One step at a time-- _oh, fuck,_ ” he curses, and Val glances down to see that Krem has once again taken Bull to the back of his throat. Bull breathes out heavily through his nose and hauls Krem off of him, tipping his head back so that Krem is forced to meet his eye. “Alright, you. You’re gonna get me nice and wet for Val’s cunt, and you’re gonna be quick about it, understood?” he orders Krem, who nods and sets to work at a furious pace. Val can’t help but press breathless, desperate, feather-light kisses all over Bull’s cheek and neck and shoulder, and Bull strokes a big hand down Val’s spine. “I can’t wait to have you. Never doubt me again, kadan--never doubt that you are the most attractive, desirable, incredible person I’ve ever seen.”

Val nods, and he feels silly for the tears that spring to his eyes. “I promise, Bull, I promise I won’t.”

Bull makes a soft sound of approval, presses a kiss to the top of Val’s head, and then glances down at Krem, who’s now got a sopping wet chin for all his hard work. “Looks like we’re about ready, then,” Bull grins, pulling Krem back up to the bed. Bull chuckles as he turns and guides Val to lay back, his head once again in Krem’s lap.

“You’re gonna want to hold him, Krem, he’s gonna try to wiggle away.”

“I’m what--” Val begins, but then Bull is nestling himself between his legs, adjusting his knees until they’re around Bull’s hips, and Val is overwhelmed once more by his need of him.

“Breathe, Val,” Bull murmurs. “I’ll go slow to begin with. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

Val nods, swallowing a whimper. He just wants Bull _inside_ him, whatever it takes. Krem leans forward, one hand on Val’s shoulder and the other resting against his cheek.

“Watch,” Krem murmurs, “watch him.”

Val lifts his chin just in time to see Bull taking his cock in hand. A throaty moan drags itself out of his throat as Bull slides the head up and down against his folds, gathering the slick there. He’s just about to beg Bull to fuck him when finally, blessedly, that beautiful, thick cock presses against his cunt. Bull presses in slowly, and Val is lost. He can feel the way Bull’s stretching him wide, feel the friction of every inch that fills him. Bull pulls out just a little, and Val lets out a soft little cry, unable to form the words to ask him not to leave him empty, but then he’s pushing back in, deeper this time, and Val’s head is spinning. With a few more of those little thrusts, he’s sinking further and further into Val’s soaking wet cunt, and Val is shaking by the time Bull’s cock is buried to the hilt. Val can feel him nudging at something deep inside him, something that’s only a little painful to have so much pressure upon. He tries rocking his hips to see if that will alleviate the feeling, and while it doesn’t, exactly, it does serve to create more friction, which distracts him from the slight pain. He moans long and low, and Bull bends his head to suckle a new mark onto his neck, moving his hips and starting up a steady rhythm to his thrusts. Krem is holding him tightly enough that Val can’t squirm very far, but he does curl his toes and grip Bull’s waist with his ankles a little tighter.

“Ohh, that’s it, kadan,” Bull growls. “So tight, so good for me. You’re so warm and slick...like you were _made_ for me.”

“Please, Bull,” Val whines, his lip quivering, “please, I need more.” He hisses in a breath as Bull’s teeth close on a patch of skin just above his collarbone.

“More?” Bull replies. “Think you’re ready for it?” Val nods, insistent, and Bull grins at that, picking up his speed until his hips are snapping with some force against him.

“You’re so fucking handsome, Val, the way you take my cock. Can’t believe you’ve never done this before, you’re a fucking _natural_.” Every snap of his hips punches a little sound out of Val’s chest. Bull drags a hand down to rest on Val’s flat stomach, and the heat in his eye is unmistakeable. “I wonder if you’ll ever...what’s the flowery way of putting it? ‘Ripen with my seed?’ Hah, I bet you’d be a sight to behold, glorious and stunning, your belly all big like that.”

Val cries out, his cunt tightening on Bull’s cock. He’s never thought of that before, not really, certainly not _seriously,_ but somehow, now, the thought of carrying Bull’s child is the most sexually-charged thing he can imagine. “Bull, oh fuck, _Bull,_ I’m going to come--”

And then Bull’s cock is slipping out of him, and Bull is grabbing his hips to turn him over even as he whines and begs to just come already. “Oh no, you’re not done yet. You need to thank Krem for doing such a good job preparing me for you,” Bull purrs once Val is on his stomach. He positions Val so that he’s up on his knees, but his head is down in Krem’s lap. Only then does it register in Val’s brain that Krem isn’t wearing anything but his chest bindings, and his pupils widen as he realizes what he’s about to do.

“I won’t start until you do,” Bull warns him, and that’s all the incentive Val needs to lower his head and lick a stripe against Krem’s entrance. He throws himself wholly into the task, and it doesn’t take long before all three of them are lost and moaning. Bull is using his grip on Val’s hips to drive his cock in hard and fast, and it’s making it a little difficult for Val to remember all the tricks they had both used on him, so that he can imitate them now on Krem. Krem, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind, and in fact seems to be rather enjoying himself. Val hums, his nose pressed against Krem’s dick, and suddenly, Krem grabs handful of Val’s hair, crying out and leaking come onto Val’s chin. The sensation sends a shockwave through Val, and he can’t help it, he’s coming hard, shouting against Krem’s thigh and shivering in Bull’s hands. Bull grunts, breath puffing out between his teeth like great gusts of wind, and Val is dimly aware of Bull’s orgasm pulsing inside him. Breathless and exhausted, Val rolls onto his side, where Bull is quick to gather him in his arms and hold him against his broad chest.

“Koslun’s balls, Val,” he breathes, “how are you still conscious? That was incredible.”

Val shakes his head, at a loss for words as his chest heaves with exertion. He feels so warm and safe held tight against Bull like this, and now Krem is turning over to complete their little sandwich. A fleeting image of this same arrangement, featuring himself with a heavily pregnant belly, passes through Val’s imagination, and another aftershock jolts through him. He can’t remember what baby qunari are called right now, the knowledge has been fucked right out of his brain. He’ll have to ask Bull later. He wonders absently if he’ll make a good father. He knows Bull would. He’s supposed to be replying to Bull, hadn’t Bull asked him something? He can’t focus, and his eyelids are so heavy--

“Is he asleep?” Krem murmurs, with a quiet chuckle. Val is too far gone to notice, or care, but he feels Bull’s big hand stroking through his hair and sinks further towards sleep.

“Think so. We really did a number on him. Speaking of which, what’s with the paint? It’s a good look, but--”

Krem can’t help the grin that pulls up the corners of his mouth. “You’ll have to ask Dorian about that one.”

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about your imekari-with-two-dads headcanons, trans positive things, or to yell at me for not mentioning what else is in Bull's bag [on tumblr](http://roguishtrevelyan.tumblr.com).


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